I knew myself too well—if I saw him, if I heard his voice, if he touched me… I’d forgive. He’d explain, and I’d understand. He’d say he loved me, and I’d believe it. And I couldn’t. Not again.
So, I left. Checked out in less than an hour. Headed for the airport before he had the chance to find me, stop me.
Now, as the seatbelt light flickers, I thumb the phone one last time before switching it off. A single message. A severed thread.
Won’t make it for dinner. I’m leaving.
* * *
Dorian
David enters my office and I can see on his face that he found something. Good. I want that low life.
I stand and walk toward him clasping his shoulder hard before pulling him into a half-hug.
“Hey,” he says back, his eyes stay steady on mine. “Good to see you again, Dorian!”
“You, too.” I reply, already restless. “What have you got?” I ask, restless.
“Good news. Bad news.” David says, dropping into the chair across from me. “Andy’s in the US. Chicago. But he’s wrapped up with the Russian mob—the faction led by Viktor‘the Bear’Morozov. If he’s under the Bear’s wing, it’s going to be damn near impossible to touch him.”
“I don’t care, Dave.” My voice is gravel, my chest burning. “We’ll find a way. Andy Moldovan doesn’t deserve to breathe. He will pay for what he did to Della.”
My fists curl until bone creaks, rage painting fire behind my eyes.
“He killed our unborn baby. And he almost killed her, too.”
David stills, eyes widening in shock, then sinking into grief. He drags a hand over his face before lowering himself heavily into the chair beside me.
“Jesus, Dorian… so that’s what she was hiding.” His voice breaks. “That bastard…” He exhales sharply. “How is she?”
I shake my head, words rough.
“I still don’t know how she’s even standing after what she went through… how she’s still sane.”
I tell him everything—her nightmare, her silence, the truth she finally bled out to me. The words burn on my tongue, but I force them out. And just as I finish, my phone buzzes against the desk.
One glance. One line.
Won’t make it for dinner. I’m leaving.
The words slice clean through me.
For a second, I don’t breathe. Don’t think.
It’s like the ground has been ripped out from under me and I’m falling, fast and endless.
No. No. Not again.
My hand tightens around the phone until my knuckles bleach white. Something cracks inside my chest, a dark, jagged fracture, sharp enough to tear through flesh.
“Dorian?” David’s voice cuts through the roaring in my ears.
But I don’t answer.
I hit call. Once. Twice. Again.
Disconnected. Gone.
